


Non-Consensual Cuddling

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (Books) [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Cuddling, Rape is mentioned but never occurs, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Dandelion tries a new drink and finds himself with amnesia. Geralt is not amused.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (Books) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624276
Comments: 23
Kudos: 280





	Non-Consensual Cuddling

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I have a great story behind where I got the idea for this. When I was doing the tags for Forgiveness Earned I saw the tag “non consensual cuddling” and I NEEDED IT. 
> 
> It had to be book!Geralt though, because show!Geralt would probably just sit on Jaskier until the drug wore off (or tie him to a tree lol)

He’s not entirely certain what Dandelion might have taken, but then again, he probably doesn’t want to know.

Geralt had turned his back on the bard for only a few moments - alright, nearly an hour - but in that time Dandelion had made new friends, and agreed to sample their latest creation. Whatever their creation might be, it certainly had done a number on the troubadour.

“Move you oaf,” Geralt grumbled, wrapping one arm around Dandelion’s waist and struggling to lead the bard up the stairs.

“W-where are we going?” he asked, reaching over to touch Geralt’s face curiously, pulling at the leather strap he used to control his hair.

“To bed - or you are at any rate - and I imagine I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Dandelion stopped, and when he spoke, his voice was like that of a frightened child, “And what are we going to be _doing_ in bed?”

“Sleeping,” Geralt said, pulling his friend up the last of the stairs, pushing him into their small room. Then he stopped. There was genuine fear in Dandelion’s eyes and absolutely no recognition.

“Dandelion-”

“Who are you?” asked the poet, backing up and pressing himself against the wall.

Geralt resisted the urge to swear. “I’m Geralt,” he said, “I’m your friend, Dandelion-”

“My name is Julian-” 

“Julian,” he said softly, the name tasting strange in his mouth. Dandelion, for one reason or another, almost never went by his given name. But if that was what he was willing to respond to-

“I won’t sleep with you.”

“I’m not asking-”

“You can’t make me!”

“Julian,” Geralt said again, patiently. “I want you to lie on the bed, and I’ll sit beside you, yes, but I won’t-”

Dandelion shook his head again. “No!” whined the troubadour, and his tone - full of absolute terror - struck something deep in Geralt’s chest. “L-let me go,” he sobbed, trying to scramble out of the room.

“Dande- Julian,” Geralt scolded, pulling the bard back, dropping him on the bed. “You need to sleep this off, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend!” cried the troubadour, and Geralt found himself shocked into stillness. He felt as though all the air had been knocked out of him, and someone had dunked him in cold water. But then Dandelion made a break for the door, so Geralt pulled him back, pinning him in his lap.

“Don’t hurt me,” Dandelion pleaded, trembling.

Geralt stroked his hair, gently setting his hat aside so that the feathered plume wouldn’t be crushed. “You’re safe with me, bard, I promise you that.”

“I won’t let you harm me!” Dandelion argued, struggling against Geralt. “I- I’ll scream-”

“Please don’t scream,” Geralt pleaded. A part of it was because he didn’t want to arouse the suspicions of other guests, but more than that, he wasn’t in favor of subjecting his ears to the torment of the poet’s shrieking. Dandelion had a trained voice, after all, and could make quite a bit of noise when he put his mind to it.

“I will!” said Dandelion again, struggling on Geralt’s lap. “I- I will, and you won’t stop me.”

“Please-”

Dandelion opened his mouth to scream, but Geralt clamped his hand over his mouth. He cast a quick glance around the room for something he could use to gag the bard, but all he could think of was the kerchief that he knew Dandelion kept in his pocket.

“I’m very sorry about this,” he said, grabbing the silk square from the poet’s pants pocket as quickly as he could. Dandelion sobbed and struggled in his arms, trying to pull away as Geralt gagged him.

He tried once again to push the bard into bed, but Dandelion - again - tried to crawl out of it. Finally, with nothing else to do, he laid down beside him, pulling him closer. “Hush now,” he said, wrapping his arms around the struggling poet. “You’ll remember me, come morning when the drug wears off.”

The men who’d given Dandelion the drug swore that the effects would wear off within a few hours, but they had failed to mention that amnesia was a side effect. If the troubadour wasn’t back to himself by morning, Geralt was going to find them and beat the truth out of them. Even if he was back to normal, it was still highly tempting to give the men a thrashing.

Dandelion continued trembling, not relaxing even as Geralt rubbed his hair, doing what he could to soothe him. “You can trust me, Julian,” he promised, “I’m your friend.”

The poet sniffled noisily, and Geralt sighed. “Please don’t weep, Juilian,” he asked softly. “I’ll even take the gag off if you won’t scream.”

Dandelion gave a soft nod and Geralt pulled off the gag. But the poet was still sniffling, still near tears, and then, to Geralt’s surprise, he rolled over and leaned into his chest. “Please don’t hurt me,” he mumbled.

Geralt rubbed his back. “I won’t harm you, Julian,” he promised.

He kept a firm grip on Dandelion, even once he was fairly certain the bard wouldn’t flee at the first opportunity, holding him to his chest with one arm while running his fingers through his hair. Even if he didn’t recognize Geralt, the familiar motion of the Witcher’s fingers in his hair seemed to calm him, and his sniffling eventually stopped.

“Geralt?”

“Yes, Julian?”

“If you are my friend, why don’t I remember it?”

“You took a hallucinogen.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Dandelion shifted, his hand bumping against the knife on Geralt’s belt. He stiffened, then scrambled back, his eyes widening.

“Julian-” Geralt lunged for him, barely catching him around the waist before the poet could make it out the door. He managed to get the handkerchief back in his mouth before he could scream, and pulled him back to the bed, pinning him under him.

Dandelion stared up at him, his eyes wide with fright. Geralt could only imagine what was going through his mind, as someone he thought was a stranger held his wrists above his head and pinned him in place with a knee on his stomach. “Julian,” he said softly. “‘I’ll let go of your hands if you promise not to hit me.”

The bard nodded, but, of course, as soon as Geralt released him, he struck out at him again. Geralt wrapped his arms around him and laid down again, pulling the poet against his chest. “

More than ever, he wanted to find the men who’d drugged his friend. He considered hog-tying the bard, but somehow, the thought of leaving him bound and alone was worse than inflicting his presence on the man.

Dandelion was tense as the time passed, never once seeming to relax, always waiting for Geralt to suddenly pounce on him. But the Witcher remained still as well, only moving to rub the poet’s back.

Finally, around the time the sun began to peek in through the curtain, Dandelion seemed to change, relaxing for the first time. He shifted and looked up at Geralt, blinking. While there was still confusion in his blue eyes, there was no longer fear, and he tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow, as though to ask what the hell was happening?

“Are you yourself again, Dandelion?” Geralt asked.

The troubadour gave him a curious look and nodded. Geralt slowly let go of him, watching him, and once he was certain the bard wasn’t going to flee, he untied his mouth.

“Geralt,” the poet said. “You know I enjoy a bit of play, but I have to wonder why I’m being gagged and rather forcibly cuddled.”

“If you ever take strange drugs again, Dandelion, I’ll thrash you with my belt and you won’t want to sit for a week.”

The poet gave him a rather sheepish smile. Geralt shook his head, pushing himself up. “I’m going to go and find those men who gave you that drink,” he said. “You don’t recall what they look like by chance?”

“No I don’t- Geralt what are you planning?”

“Go and fetch us some breakfast, Dandelion, I’ll want it once I’ve finished with them.”

“Geralt!”

**Author's Note:**

> Dandelion is very curious and I could 100% see him being like "Pfft, I can take this and it won't affect me! I'm not weak! ...... GERALT I FEEL FUNNY" 
> 
> Like he alternates between borderline paranoid and very reckless (but he also drinks like a fish, so I suppose recreational drug use isn't too far out of the realm of possibility).
> 
> And the chance that he tries something again is 100%


End file.
